Constant Vigilance
by rhead-a-holyc
Summary: Follow Harry's first year at Hogwarts, where he finds a little more (and a little less) than he bargained for. Slytherin!Harry.


Privet Drive was deathly silent, as was expected for the early hour. A dull thunk echoed through the street with every other step the lone man took. The light drizzle on the pavement made it a bit tricky to keep his balance with his new appendage – a metal leg that was enchanted to act like a human one, but that didn't stop the leg from being far heavier (or far lighter after a lightweight charm). The mediwitches never quite managed to get the finer details right, but it was better than nothing.

The man could barely see the spot of baby blue that lay quietly on the stair of one of the houses, and a grim smile flitted across his face. His friend would never learn. He had been in school, years younger than the last person Dumbledore had made a similar mistake on, and he didn't think he would be able to watch another like that man.

Of course, there was no way to tell _for certain_ that the boy would turn out the same, but he wasn't about to risk it – especially not if the boy was the only hope to fight against the last one (a truly ridiculous belief, in his opinion) but it was all politics right now, and he made sure to keep clear of that. Mostly, at least.

His eyes flickered around quickly before he quickly made his way to the small bundle, the invisibility and Notice-Me-Not charms on his cloak not being enough to satisfy his senses, lifting the boy with little problem. The lightning bolt scar still looked a painful red, and the man thought he could feel magic coming from it. Magic that was definitely not anything _near_ what was considered 'light.'

Surely Dumbledore would have done something about that given that the boy had been with him for at least a day already? With as much magic as Dumbledore had, the taint on the boy could have been cleared with relative ease unless, of course, the Dark Magic in the scar had been far darker originally – he would never know for certain this long after the incident. He knew that there would be little he could do, and definitely no help that he could ask for, that would not raise suspicions as to _why_ he was asking such questions. The boy would grow up learning everything he needed to, even if Dumbledore didn't approve.

His eyes scanned the boy one last time, before examining the street before him. Seeing nothing amiss, he spun on his heel and disappeared with a soft pop, dropping the wards that surrounded Privet Drive.

…oOo…

Moody snorted at Dumbledore's latest plea for help to find the precious Boy-Who-Lived, before tossing the parchment into the grate where the flickering fire happily consumed it. This would make the entire situation all the more interesting. Of course, it would be extremely helpful for what he was trying to do, but Dumbledore didn't need to know that.

"It's here! It's here! It's here!" Harry shouted, running into his office, ducking the spell he knew was coming, and blocking the spell that was sent his way immediately afterwards. He fired off a couple of his own despite knowing that it probably wasn't going to hit.

He finally got hit by a stinging charm that he hadn't noticed when he rolled to avoid the mild cutting charm that had been sent his way. Then jumped upright when he heard the "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" that was screamed into his ear. The tickling charm he fired off in his shock would have hit had it not been for the shield charm that had been raised within seconds.

The thick parchment was taken from Harry's loose grip while Harry took a minute to slump down onto the floor to catch his breath.

"So you finally got your letter, eh, boy?" Moody growled, his eyes gleaming in delight. After everything he had found out over the last ten years, Hogwarts would be most interesting – it almost made him wish that he had taken up the Defence Against the Dark Arts post that he had been offered. "From the looks of things, you aren't going to find any of this too difficult. And if you do, your Summer isn't going to be at all pleasant. For you, that is."

Harry gulped, but nodded. The summers that he worked the hardest were always the most fun, though, so Harry couldn't really say that he minded that much. Especially when Moody occasionally took him to watch the Auror training, and let him cast stinging charms on unsuspecting Aurors-in-training. It was hilarious to watch them look around suspiciously, not even bothering to consider the possibility that it was him.

"Yes, sir!" Harry said in response, unable to show his excitement. Moody had promised him that his first missions would start when he got his Hogwarts letter, and it was here now.

"Very well. I'd believe that your textbooks are newer editions than the ones I taught you from but, if anything, they have even less information than the older versions do," Moody looked mildly annoyed by this. "So, you will be going down to Diagon Alley and buy your new textbooks, and no one is to find out who you are. However you manage that is up to you as I am certain I have taught you enough by now. You will receive the required amount of galleons tomorrow. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

Harry caught sight of Moody's grin, and his urge to cheer was squashed almost immediately. It wasn't going to be as easy as Moody was making it out so seem – there was something Moody wasn't telling him. Something important, and at the moment Harry couldn't think of anything odd about what Moody had said.

…oOo…

Harry counted the number of galleons in his hand for the nth time. He had requested the prices from Flourish and Blotts the night before, and he would have more than enough to buy his textbooks, and Moody had assured him that the rest was his to spend however he wished to. The galleons had been checked for tracking charms, and any sort of enchantments that would attract attention to him. There weren't any, which made Harry all the more suspicious.

Sporting dark blond hair and blue eyes, Harry hadn't even let Moody catch a glimpse of him as he left their home. Moody didn't know what he looked like, or Harry _hoped_ Moody didn't know at least, and blond hair was something that Harry wasn't particularly fond of.

The Knight Bus was Harry's chosen mode of transport. Stan Shunpike didn't care who he saw, and Harry's scar was covered by muggle make-up, something that Moody had made sure to teach him the art of. Harry thought that some of the special effects he could paint onto his skin was utterly wicked, but it would only draw attention to him if he did use any of them – probably to send him to St. Mungo's.

Not needing to go to Ollivander's (Moody had gotten him his wand under disguise _years_ ago), Harry was able to spend some times looking through the bookstores for something interesting. The bookstores at Knockturn Alley were infinitely more interesting than the ones in Diagon Alley, at any rate – even Moody grudgingly admitted to it – and all the books within Flourish and Blotts were likely only later editions of the ones Moody already had.

That was when he heard the whispered rumours about 'Harry Potter being in Diagon Alley' but he was certain he hadn't given himself away, or people would be flocking to him asking for ridiculous things. What in the world did people do with _signatures_? There was surely only a number of times you could look at such a thing, or even stare at a picture, for that matter.

Harry sighed. Moody must have known, somehow.

Well, no matter, it wasn't like they knew what to look for, but Harry wasn't about to risk being spotted, and would speed up the trip. It wasn't like he _needed_ to visit the bookshops at Knockturn Alley, anyway.

While getting his robes fixed, however, he ran into a blond boy that was startlingly familiar to the older man he saw in the Ministry of Magic on occasion. Exactly how Harry would have imagined a younger version of Lucius Malfoy, the traitor scum. Harry knew that Moody would hate the man a little less had he not lied about his true allegiance. That would make it all the more amusing when he talked circles around the arrogant boy.

…oOo…

Moody was waiting for him when he returned, holding a letter that was tossed into the burning fire a moment after Harry came through. The man looked at him approvingly.

"No one spotted you. You'd make a good undercover Auror with a bit more training, boy."

"I ran into Draco Malfoy while I was getting my Hogwarts' robes done," Harry started, accepting Moody's compliment.

"Ah, the boy will be joining you at Hogwarts this year, won't he?" Moody asked, rubbing his chin idly as Harry banished his bags to his room. "Keep an eye on him. His father may not be easily swayed into talking, but the boy may be more likely to blurt things out. And make sure he doesn't find out too much about you either. Merlin knows what he would do with the information, and we definitely don't want to find out."

Harry nodded, "And Dumbledore? You said he was the one who left me on my relative's doorstep. It all sounds a bit strange. I mean, wouldn't it have been simpler if he just arrived during the day and explained everything himself instead of through a letter – not that the letter was extraordinarily clear, anyway."

Moody nodded approvingly, "And what do you think would be the best route to take with him?"

"Suspicion, at the very least," Harry said slowly, "but I don't think open distrust is going to be a good idea, especially when a lot of people still believe in him. I think he has something important that he isn't telling anyone. Perhaps something to do with my scar?"

"Good. I won't have you come back a lazy sheep, you hear me?" Moody growled. "Besides, I want to teach you a couple of tricks for Hogwarts. Keep in mind that you never leave _anything_ of yours unattended. You never know what kind of lowlife would like the chance of going through your things…"

…oOo…

Moody didn't see Harry off at King's Cross Station. In fact, Moody had dropped him off on the muggle side of King's Cross and told him to find his own way to the platform or he'd miss the train. It wasn't like looking for the entrance to the platform would be anything of a hassle: it was still early, and all of Harry's belongings had been shrunk into the little trunk that acted as a pendant on the end of the necklace tucked into his shirt.

Hedwig would be staying with Moody, much to her displeasure, and Harry's new non-descript, brown owl was already making its way to Hogwarts.

Harry walked his first circuit through the station, examining all the people rushing around him. They were all muggles, and there were very few that carried large trunks. None of them would notice any hint of magic as long as he didn't cast anything showy and obvious, or bring attention to himself in any way. The lack of disguise, though, was making him severely uncomfortable.

Starting his second circuit, Harry was just about to probe the wall dividing Platforms 9 and 10, when he heard a loud voice shrieking about "muggles" and how the station was "packed with them every year." Harry's eyes shot towards the sound. It was obviously a wizarding family, their muggle attire was nothing less than atrocious and they were garnering attention from that alone.

Wondering why they didn't bother casting a simple Notice-Me-Not Charm before they entered the station (hopefully they didn't _actually_ believe muggles dressed that awfully), Harry made his way over to them, schooling his features to hide his annoyance at their utter lack of thought.

"Madam, if you would please lower your voice," Harry started. "Your continued loud tone, while being rude to everyone else, shows a blatant disregard to the Statute of Secrecy."

They were undoubtedly Weasleys. While Moody insisted they were good people, Harry had his doubts as several of them began growing red despite his polite tone.

"Don't talk to Mum like that," what looked like the youngest boy snapped.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "With politeness, you mean? Or perhaps you would rather a bunch of Aurors arrive and arrest your mother for breaking the Statute?"

"Ronald!" the woman admonished. "I apologise, young man. I simply forgot that we were on the muggle side, at the moment. We don't usually come through this way."

Harry smiled tightly, "Understandable, Madam."

There wasn't really a point in asking _why_ they had decided to enter through the muggle side this year, if that was at all true (she _had_ said that the station was packed with muggles _every year_ ). Harry was certain they wouldn't give him the right answer, but it was too much of a co-incidence for this to be the year that _Harry_ was going to be at Hogwarts (expected to come through the muggle entrance of King's Cross) and for Dumbledore's staunches supporters to just _happen_ to be there.

Harry was sure Moody would like to hear about that. Harry was certain that he would like to hear Moody's theories, at least. Or figure it out for himself, as it may very well turn out.

…oOo…

The train ride wasn't particularly interesting. Harry met the Longbottom Heir, a suspiciously clumsy boy with a toad that was always lost, it seemed – the perfect excuse to go snooping; a bushy-haired muggleborn girl who would probably be the perfect researcher if her memorisation of their textbooks were any indication; and the annoying Weasley boy that had nearly jumped him for his words to the boy's mother. It was clear the boy thought his mother was above the rules, and that was more than a little troublesome.

Harry wondered just how much trouble the boy would end up getting into at Hogwarts with that kind of thinking. He would undoubtedly be a Gryffindor, and Harry was almost certain he wouldn't want to be in the same house as the boy. Harry shuddered at the thought of sharing a dorm with that boy for seven years.

If Hermione and Neville were willing to be in the same house as him, that was entirely their problem, and Harry assured them that he wouldn't listen to any of their complaints about the Weasley.

For the most part, though, the compartment Harry was in was silent but for the occasional sound of a turning page. Although, Harry was extremely tempted to shout "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" suddenly, but that would easily give away who he had been staying with – something Moody had warned him against. Harry wasn't about to risk being taken away from the man.

With Gringotts being robbed only recently, something Moody claimed to be because of the pride the goblins had in their own warding but only a magically strong person would have been able to break in anyway, Harry wasn't about to be taken away from the only person that would make sure he was completely ready to face the man who tried to kill him.

Harry wasn't about to keep his nose out of trouble. There was no need for that if he was careful enough not to get caught. He wasn't about to let his parents' deaths be for nothing. It was fairly obvious, to anyone who bothered to think about it that is, that the Dark Lord must have had a reason to be at Godric's Hollow that night – otherwise he could have sent any number of his Death Eaters instead.

There was something that he and Moody were missing. Something important, and Harry guessed that Dumbledore would hold at least some of the answers he was looking for. Harry just needed to be patient.

…oOo…

Moody had drilled it into his head that he needed to be weary of Snape, an ex-Death Eater that Dumbledore was protecting for some reason, and here he was in the house that the man was the head of. It wasn't Snape that gave him an oddly suspicious feeling, though, rather it was the stuttering Professor Quirrell, whose eyes felt like they were on him despite his face never turning in Harry's direction.

Not to mention that he would still have to keep an eye on Draco Malfoy, while it looked like the boy was trying his best to make friends with him. It would honestly be easier to keep an eye on Draco if he thought Harry was his friend, but Harry also knew that it would eventually get difficult to stop thinking of Draco as a friend if he had to at the end. Although, that would probably make the entire Slytherin experience significantly easier.

Harry didn't quite know how to take the easy route, but he did know the most effective one.

It was barely a moment after Snape had left the Common Room, that Harry summoned the little garden snake he had picked up on impulse on the way. It proved incredibly useful as half of the Slytherins themselves backed away in fear. It seemed like they were just as afraid of snakes as everyone else.

Parseltongue was the ability that was Salazar Slytherin's own, something that meant far more in Slytherin than any of the other house. Harry was certain he would have to hide the ability had he been Sorted anywhere else.

But in Slytherin it was a benefit like no other, one that would send him right to the top of the hierarchy, or make him untouchable at the very least. Harry didn't like the thought of all that attention, but it was far better to have them on his side than against him.

He didn't miss the calculating looks sent his way, though, and Harry knew that he would have to keep an eye on all of them and be extremely careful. Moody would probably murder him quietly, and banish his body, if Harry found himself in a mess he couldn't really get out of.

Harry sighed as he lay on the bed without a trunk at the bottom. Hogwarts was going to be difficult, very difficult.

…oOo…

With that, Harry slipped into the routine that wasn't too much different from the one that Moody had given him before, only this time there were actually adults teaching him instead of self-study with Moody testing him after he returned. Of course, there wasn't an actual testing session at the end of the day, but Harry used that time for his own research with Hermione and Neville tagging along most of the time.

Hermione sounded happy enough in Ravenclaw, but Neville didn't look to be very popular in Gryffindor. Nor very happy there (the Weasley boy, Ronald, was in the same dorm as him). Harry couldn't blame him: Ronald didn't seem too happy with him either but it didn't really matter to Harry who knew the Slytherins would take any opportunity to hex him.

Draco was trying, though, and it was hilarious to watch his expression as he slowly ate away into his arrogance with every day he tried just a little harder for Harry's attention. Harry was almost certain his father had put him up to it.

Professor Quirrell had only become more suspicious with every passing day: the man's stutter seemed to disappear on occasion and his voice changed, but other times he had a quieter voice that was more suited to the researcher Harry had heard Quirrell had been.

Not to mention the several times Harry had heard the two voices talking together as if they were in conversation, which was extremely strange if they were actually the same person. Unless he had multiple personality disorder? But wasn't that when the two personalities were unaware of each other?

The fact that the man's lack of stutter caused his scar to become irritated was only an added bonus that served more like an early warning, and got Harry to watch the man even closer. It was slowly getting more and more prominent, and from Hermione's worried look he guessed the scar looked a bit red too. What had his scar to do with Quirrell's change of voice?

That man was as much a mystery as he was frustrating. And no one else noticed it.

…oOo…

Harry's scar was acting up, and even his weak Occlumency shields weren't numbing the pain in the slightest, which meant that the pain wasn't really from an outside source – or it was in his mind, so he couldn't protect his mind from itself. If he could find the section, though, he could try and block it off.

It had never acted up before, so even Moody hadn't told him to be careful with his scar. So Harry had absolutely nothing to work with. Harry was in this blind, and that was a position he absolutely hated.

The troll that had somehow made its way into the dungeons, had interrupted his research of his scar with the possibility of there being something, or someone, that was even more dangerous than a lair of Slytherins within the castle walls. And, with that, Harry realised that he had let his guard down while he had been too engrossed in his slight problem. Moody was going to murder him if he ever found out.

Hopefully he wouldn't, or summer wasn't going to be fun. At all.

…oOo…

Harry was stumped.

There was no indication that anything that was happening made any sense.

The Cerebus in the Third Floor corridor. The mountain troll that had _somehow_ managed to get into Hogwarts, ignoring the fact that it was supposed to be impossible with Hogwarts' wards.

And now this Invisibility Cloak that was sent to him out of nowhere.

Harry needed answers! And he sure as hell was going to get them!

Dumbledore's password hadn't changed from the time he had asked to see Harry in the beginning of the year to _question him_. Dumbledore would have to know something, nothing got through the wards without him knowing since he was keyed into the wards.

"Who sent this?" Harry said, before Dumbledore could utter the usual annoying greeting. There wasn't anyone in his office, in fact, it looked like Dumbledore was looking over some sort of paperwork. The Invisibility Cloak was dropped on top of Dumbledore's table – Harry hadn't chanced actually touching the cloak.

The man looked startled.

"Harry, my boy-"

"Answer the question. I refuse to touch something send by an unsigned person, especially something as suspiciously expensive as an invisibility cloak," Harry said. "I know you have access to the wards and can tell me who sent it!"

The man picked the cloak up immediately, and waited a moment as to show Harry that nothing untoward had happened to him. "See? Nothing dangerous. It wouldn't be allowed through the wards if it were a danger to the sender."

"Who sent it?" Harry repeated, his suspicion already growing as to who the sender actually was.

"Surely you don't-"

Harry glared at the man.

Dumbledore sighed, "I did. It was in my possession when your father died, and I thought I would return it to you."

"As a Christmas gift?" Harry asked in disbelief.

Dumbledore shrugged, "I thought you may like the connection to your parents."

"Without actually telling me that it was my father's?"

"I may have overlooked that."

Harry narrowed his eyes. That was a very important thing to overlook, and he got the feeling that Dumbledore was hiding something from him even now, but Harry let that be. He would find out eventually.

He muttered a word of thanks before snatching the cloak from the table and stalking out of the office. Harry wasn't about to be a part of the man's machinations.

…oOo…

The tracking charm (that took embarrassingly long to think of) on Quirrell was giving him some solid information. The man was frequenting the Third Floor corridor with that Cerebus, and disappearing beyond that. Harry followed him under the Invisibility Cloak once, and only managed to glimpse though the trapdoor before it was quickly shut again as the music spell stopped. The green mass that kept twisting on itself didn't look too promising, but Harry was sure he would figure it out if he managed to see it once more.

Why Dumbledore thought it was necessary to have all of that in the castle, Harry had no idea. Unless it had something to do with the break in to Gringotts, the other so called "safest" place. The Headmaster was crazy if he thought that putting anything in a school full of teenagers was a good idea. Harry knew that he hadn't been the only person who was even slightly interested in the Third Floor corridor.

It was late enough in the year, though, that Hermione had already drawn up study timetables for Harry and Neville, and while Neville seemed to be sticking to it, Harry found his research deviating widely from the course material. Hermione didn't quite approve, but Harry's grades didn't look to be dropping either so she didn't complain _too_ much.

But she wasn't able to hide her excitement about learning new things either, despite her disapproval. Neville found it a little more difficult to keep up with them, though. Whether this was because both Harry and Hermione had at least a basic muggle education – Hermione probably knew more than him, though, since he had never actually attended a muggle primary school – Harry didn't know, but that was just one more thing that Hermione was determined to teach Neville as soon as she could.

Harry had taken to sneaking into the Third Floor corridor as often as he could. The plant he had seen was Devil's Snare, Harry realised that after the plant had shrunk away from the light he had sent through the trapdoor for a better look.

The enchanted chess board was the next thing that Harry met, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to cross it without alerting anyone to the fact that he had been there. Harry didn't want the suspicion to fall on him just yet. He would have to follow Quirrell in the next time the man came through, and let the man battle through the chess set.

It would take patience, though. Quirrell would try again eventually.

Until then, Harry could just watch him. And try to figure out who the other voice belonged to, and what it had to do with his scar burning.

…oOo…

Hermione was going to absolutely _kill_ him if she found out. And it was probably not worth mentioning exactly what _Moody_ would do if Harry got caught. Suffice to say, Harry was cursing his curiosity to hell and back.

Snape had been on him lately, too. It looked like the man was also watching Quirrell as closely as Harry had. The rest of the Slytherins left him well enough alone after he had made it clear he wanted no part in their politics. Not _this_ year, at least, but Harry didn't tell them that.

He could let them be happy with themselves for now. Fight among each other, create their hierarchy, and just wait for him to mess it up. It would confuse them, and confused enemies were much easier to defeat in the end, if Harry needed to.

It wasn't for the first time that Harry wondered if he should just let the entire Third Floor mystery be, and if Quirrell wanted whatever was at the end of the corridor then to just let Dumbledore deal with it. It wasn't like Harry was in any position to be snooping around as he was, and he would probably get into a whole lot of trouble if he was caught.

That was the only thing Harry wasn't going to let happen. If there was any chance that he would get caught, Harry was hightailing out of there. He didn't want to be incriminated by whatever was going to happen, especially since Slytherin was already in a position to win the House Cup.

Harry may not completely _like_ all of the Slytherins, but he wasn't going to risk the House Cup for his own curiosity.

He followed Quirrell nevertheless, wanting to finally put the mystery to rest.

…oOo…

"Harry Potter."

On second thought, maybe Harry should have escaped while he still had the chance. Not when he was stuck in the same room as a terrifyingly vile parasite of a Dark Lord. At least the man had been polite enough to introduce himself after a bit of a tantrum about the fact that Harry _didn't_ recognise him.

Harry wondered if the enchanted fire would hurt more or less than whatever the Dark Lord planned to do to him. Or if it would kill him faster, which may be a good idea considering the Dark Lord's preference for torture curses and the like.

A mirror stood behind the man-person-thing, but Harry couldn't get a good look at it. It was obviously there for a reason, and from all the other challenges Harry could only assume this was Dumbledore's. Although it could be Sinistra's or someone else's, but Harry doubted that if this was the last task. Harry knew Dumbledore was smarter than that, and one of the few wizards who had dived into the depths of magic for knowledge.

Harry caught sight of a strange script over the top of the mirror. He didn't recognise any of the words, but Harry was pretty sure the Dark Lord would tell him what it meant if he didn't figure it out himself, so he didn't bother trying. The genius mind, Moody's words not his, would certainly have figured it out already. Why would Harry waste precious brain power that he could use to think up a way out of this situation?

Quirrell had turned back to face Harry while the grotesque face continued surveying the mirror. Harry _really_ didn't need to be reminded of the fact that Quirrell now had two faces.

"So, for the entire year, you didn't think up a… makeover? Or how to… get different bodies? I imagine it's rather difficult to go about your daily business like… that..." Harry said, ducking out of the way of the red spell Quirrell had sent his way in annoyance. Moody's training was going to be very useful here.

The other voice spoke again, "There's something that I want in the mirror. You will get it for me."

Harry didn't think he would want to get anything the Dark Lord wanted for him, but he played along anyway. "Something? What am I supposed to be getting? And why is it in the mirror?"

Burnt red eyes glared at him through the mirror. "Do you not even know why I am here? The Stone will get me my body back."

Harry _definitely_ wasn't going to help get this 'Stone', then. Not for the Dark Lord, at least. He may want to keep it and examine this 'Stone' for himself. Then he could give it to Moody to cover up for him, because something that dangerous shouldn't have been in a school in the first place! Surely the owner was looking desperately for it.

"No? Quirrell was just acting suspiciously, so I followed him," Harry hoped that made him sound like the Gryffindor that everyone had expected him to be. That had been one of the highlights of the year: half the school population claiming that the Sorting Hat had finally lost its marbles.

The Dark Lord sighed in irritation, "The Philosopher's Stone, boy."

Harry admitted that he hadn't bothered researching too much into Alchemy. It had sounded about as dull as Potions was, and Harry was pretty sure that his lack of reaction was enough of a response for the man, because irritated hissing filled the room, cursing Harry's ignorance.

"You know, if you want to curse me in another language, you should probably curse me in a language I _don't_ actually understand…" Harry pointed out in amusement.

"Just come here, and stand in front of the mirror. It's a red stone. I need it."

Harry approached, carefully watching Quirrell for any sudden movements. Moody would never even move forward from his position, but Harry wasn't Moody, so he humoured the Dark Lord. There was no way that he could get the stone out of the mirror. The only way Harry had ever gotten things out of objects that didn't want to open was by destroying it.

So that's exactly what Harry tried doing. He would probably be able to grab the stone before the Dark Lord did if this actually worked.

"Reducto!"

The glass cracked, and the wood behind it splintered until the entire mirror begun falling apart. Harry realised that the entire mirror had been held up by little more than magic.

"You've destroyed it!" the Dark Lord shrieked, before his eyes began glowing angrily. "You will pay for that, Potter!"

Harry backed up quickly. He needed to be as far away from the tantrum-throwing Dark Lord as he possibly could if he wanted to live beyond today. Harry's grip on his wand tightened as he wordlessly summoned his Invisibility Cloak. It was the only spell that Moody had taught him wordlessly, at Harry's own insistence after the first time Moody had unexpectedly summoned a vase through Harry's head. He would have chosen anything else if he had half a choice but at the moment being invisible sounded like a good idea.

The sound of hurried footsteps on the stone filtered through the doorway. And the Quirrell-Dark Lord hybrid glared at Harry, or Harry was sure the Dark Lord's 'face' would be glaring at him had the mirror still been there.

"I will be back for you, Harry Potter! I won't forget this!"

A black shroud covered their body before turning into a misty substance that flew through the flames in the doorway, effectively killing them. The Invisibility Cloak came fluttering in moments later, and Harry barely had enough time to cast the essential spells that would stop him from being detected, or sniffed out, as he hung by the doorway waiting for the crowd to enter the room.

He slipped out behind them, grinning at the fact that he had _conveniently_ forgotten to mention the extra weight in his left pocket.

Oh well.

…oOo…

 **Written for Make It New Again Challenge: Harry is raised by someone other than the Dursleys & Harry is Sorted into Slytherin.**


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